out of the blue and into the black
by timeladyelf
Summary: Evan lies through his teeth and gets way more than what he bargained for. Connor is dead but he is still stuck here, so he may as well get a kick out of it, and driving Evan insane seems to fit the bill just right.
1. No rest for the wicked

_"Dear Evan Hansen,_

 _This is not going to be a good day and here's why:_

 _You are hallucinating the dead kid you are faking being friends with."_

.

.

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It starts on the way back from the Murphy's, when he is walking back home, mind spiralling away with all the lies and lies and lies and-

"You know, that's not what I meant when I said we could pretend to have friends."

And then Connor Murphy is falling into step beside him, hands in his hoodie's pocket, and Evan, like a normal, sensible person, shrieks and scrambles away, and, "What? _You-_ How? _Y-You?_ You are _dead!"_

"Well, yeah, duh," Connor shrugs like there is nothing confusing or weird or wrong or out of the ordinary with that, "or did you think I was a secret evil twin? Eviler, I mean."

"I-what?" Evan gapes, shuts his eyes, presses the heels of his hands against his eyelids, because this can't be _real,_ "You- _this_ isn't happening, it's not real, it's all in my head, you're dead, oh god, I'm going crazy, holy shit, this is a whole new level-"

"Okay, I'm going to stop you right fucking there because dude, calm the fuck down and _breathe."_ Connor, no, the _hallucination_ glares at him from a few feet away, "you just lied your way into _my house_ , you can get used to some fucking haunting, asshole."

The words are spat at him with so much bitterness that they filter through the haze in Evan's mind, burning their way into understanding, and _oh,_ "Right, right, it makes sense, in a very fucked up kind of way, but yes, it's the guilty- the guilty!" Evan nods fervently as he explains to Not-Connor standing in the driveway, "I just got into this mess, so my brain is freaking out, of course, and it's making me hallucinate _you,_ obviously."

Evan almost smiles; his brain turning on him? He can deal with that, yeah, maybe change his meds or something. Maybe if he concentrates really hard or dig his nails on his hands, it will go away.

Except.

The hallucination, Connor, is still glowering at him from the driveaway, arms crossed against his chest, looking as real as the day he signed Evan's cast and as angry as the moment he shoved Evan to the floor.

They stare at each other in silence for another minute, but then a car turns the corner and runs over the spot Connor had been occupying and he looks alarmed for a second before his image blinks and fades away.

Evan finds himself alone in the street, wondering what the hell had just happened. He shakes his head, stuffs his hands in his pockets and goes home.

Tomorrow there will be enough to worry without him seeing things. He doesn't get enough sleep, not right away, and he hadn't expected to. He turns and tosses, limbs tangling up in the sheets; he thinks of all the lies he spun around the Murphy's, of how Zoe looked under the artificial light, of how his own house seemed so much emptier now. Strangely, it's the scared look on Connor's face when the car sped through him that sticks to his mind as Evan finally falls asleep.

.

.

.

The first thing Evan notices when he wakes up is that he had forgotten he owned a yellow shirt.

The second thing is that his yellow shirt had no business being up in the ceiling fan.

The third thing he notices is that a nuclear bomb seemed to have gone off in his room over night without him realizing it. His clothes had been scattered everywhere, from the ceiling to the window, and his closet had been thrown open, drawers tossed around and emptied. There is a shoe carefully placed on top of his computer, which, of course, had been relocated to the ceiling fan next to his yellow shirt.

"Dude, your clothes are _lame._ "

Evan shuts his eyes again. He recognizes that voice, unfortunely, he really does. This has _got_ to be a dream. Some terrible, horrible nightmare he is going to wake up from.

"Like, who even owns a yellow _Save the Bees_ teeshirt?"

Anytime now.

"What are you, some vegan freak?"

He's going to wake up soon. Evan can feel it. Right about now.

"Oh god, I got stuck haunting some vegan freak, that's just pathetic, I wanna lodge a complaint."

There is a headache building on the back of his head and Evan doesn't think you can get those in dreams, not with the medication he's taking.

So, back to hallucinating.

"Why didn't I made you up nicer?" He wonders aloud, because really, couldn't his brain give him a break?

Connor, though, doesn't seem to appreciate his woes. Instead, he looks at him warily from where he sits cross legged in the carpet, "you know, you are going to have to accept I'm not just a figment of your imagination at some point or other."

"Right, yeah, no, you are the evil twin no one knew about, how could I possibly forget."

 _"Okay,_ first off, evil _er_ , I was clearly pretty damn evil on my own when I was alive," and now Evan found himself agreeing with his hallucination, "second, dude, how do you think your lame ass shirt ended up on the ceiling, uh? Or the shoe on the computer on the fan? And how do you explain the pentagram draw in blood in the roof? Or the socks in the coffee maker?"

" _The what on the roof?"_

"That's beside the point," Connor waves him off distractedly, and Evan backs away as much as possible, plasters himself against the wall, as the boy walks up to the bed and towers over him, "you gotta accept I'm a fucking ghost because it's no fun haunting you when you think I'm not real, and trust me, I'm going to keep haunting your lying ass until you drop this shit."

Evan is dizzy. There is a lot of words going on around him now, but he can't focus because _holy shit, Connor Murphy is a ghost holy shit holyshitholyshitholysh-_

He looks wide eyed at the boy in front of him, tries to say something, he is not exactly sure what, but it doesn't matter anyway because there isn't enough air in his lungs and he's choking and-

There is a loud bang.

It startles Evan out of the panic attack he had been spiraling into, he opens his eyes.

( _when had he closed them?_ )

The glass of water he always keeps on his bedside table is broken on the ground, a wet stain on the wall, shards glistening in the morning sun.

Connor is gone.

Evan takes a deep breath. His room still looks like a warzone.

He is _so_ glad his mom isn't home yet.


	2. there's a bad moon on the rise

_"Dear Evan Hansen,_

 _Today is not going to be a good day and here's why:_

 _You are not hallucinating. You are being haunted._

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.

.

"I'm sorry."

Evan blurts out and immediatly feels foolish, standing in the middle of his empty kitchen and waiting for a ghost to appear. "I, uh, didn't want to- well, you know, not _lie,_ but uh, _you know."_

He fidgets, fiddles with the hem of his shirt, the silence in the room pressing down on him, "could you, I don't know, give me a sign you're here or something?" Evan feels his chest tighten, "you know, maybe bang some doors or, I don't know, break some plates?" When still nothing changes, he balks, "you know what, nevermind, this is stupid- you're probably not even here, and even if you _were_ , why would you come talk to _me,_ this is stupid, I'm sorry, I-"

The kitchen door starts opening and slamming closed, and Connor blinks into existence, his image shimmering and faltering for a second before he fully materializes in the doorway looking bored. "That's offensive, you know, thinking I would go full on Poltergheist on you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Jesus, you apologize too much." The ghost lets the door close one last time and leans on the doorway, arms crossed on his chest, "you were saying?"

"Oh! Right, yeah," Evan fumbles, "I just wanted to say sorry? For last night?"

"Oh, you mean last night when you told my parents we were best fucking friends forever for no goddamn reason?"

Connor looks pissed. Very pissed. _Get-out-of-my-way-freak_ pissed.

The glass on the counter starts shaking.

" _Why?_ Why did you even do it, is it just some new way to fuck with me even after I died?"

Is it Evan or the room is getting colder? He takes a step back from the ghost just in case. " _No!_ Why would I do that? _No,_ I would never-"

"Then _why?_ " Connor flickers for a second, "why are you doing this? Is it my sister, you creep? Because if you fucking touch her, _I swear to god-"_

" _No nonono no!_ I would never- not that there's anything wrong with Zoe, there isn't, she's amazing, really- I mean, I didn't plan this, like, at all! I swear," Evan is babbling, he knows, but Connor is still glaring at him and the glass on the sink is freaking vibrating and if it breaks there's gonna be a mess and he's going to cut himself in the shards, he knows-"its just that they started talking and I didn't know what to do, and Jared told me to just nod and agree- but I may have agreed with a little too much and by then it was kind of too late, and I have no idea what I am doing anymore- not that I had any idea before, because just _no-"_

"Oh my god, _shut up!"_ Connor screams and the glass flies straight to the wall, smashing in a hundred smithereens on the floor; Evan flinches, eyes widening and breath catching up on his throat, and the ghost seems to deflate, "fine, whatever, I believe you, for fuck's sake, just _fix it_."

"Fix it?" Evan winces, pales, "how-"

"I don't know, it's your mess, _you_ fix it." Something changes, the room starts warming up again, but Connor looks tired to his bones and, for the first time, almost translucent, "I just want it to be over."

And now Evan feels guilty, because _god,_ "Is that the reason you're still, you know, _here_?"

How could he be so selfish? Jesus, he should have said something _ages_ ago, back in the principal's office, when they asked him about the letter for the first time, anything but make up some convoluted story. Maybe then Connor wouldn't be stuck as ghost like now. And now he feels even worse, because Connor's face is doing a thing where he looks so young and sad and tired and _jesus_ , it's so easy to forget he had been only seventeen when he-

"N-no, I mean, I don't think so?" The ghost looks confused, nose scrunching up and brows furrowing, "I woke up like this two days ago, and I'm just- here, I guess."

Connor shrugs, and some of the waves crashing in Evan's chest subsides; it's still nowhere near okay and he has no idea how to deal, much less fix, any of this, but it's better than half an hour ago and really, what more could he ask?

.

.

.

( "Hey, uh, were you serious about that pentagram? Because I'm not really confortable with blood? Like, it makes me kinda squirmish and nauseus-"

" _Deadly_ serious." )

.

.

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"This is boring."

Evan sighs, counts to ten. "You don't have to be here, you know." He gives Connor a sidelong glance, "you could, I don't know, move on? Follow the light, Connor, go to the light!"

The boy rolls his eyes and rests his chin on his hand; he had been sitting on the floor next to Evan's desk since the class had started and he had popped into existence, "This isn't even how _Ghost_ went, Christ, did you even see the movie?"

Evan grunts. He really needs to pay attention to this class, but he's not sure what's more distracting, the knowledge of the mess he's gotten himself into or the figure on the floor whining about AP Bio.

To his credit, Evan did handle the ghost situation rather well, if anyone asked him. It's not everyday you find yourself being haunted by your classmate and he had had only one minor panic attack so far. Did he yelp when Connor appeared out of thin air? Yes, but did he get many stares for talking to himself? Well, yes, but that's not all his fault, and besides, people always found him weird anyway.

"This is so boring it's killing me. _Again._ "

Connor falls back on the floor, arm over his face.

For a moment, there is silence. Evan is finally focusing on what the teacher is saying.

Connor starts singing loudly and horribly out of tune.

Evan sighs, looks around. No one else seems to be bothered by obnoxious teenage angst lyrics.

To be fair, Evan never had that kind of good luck anyway.

.

.

.

"Oh my god, they will think you were lovers!"

Jared cackles through the phone and Evan sputters, because Connor is like, less than five feet away, lounging in the sun in Evan's room like some kind of oversized cat, and this is _not_ the kind of thing they should be talking about.

 _"_ Jared _no-"_

"Look, come _on,_ you were best friends and he wouldn't let you talk to him at school, and when you did, he kicked your ass, that's like," and now Jared sounded almost _giddy_ , "the most cliche secret gay lovers trope!"

 _"_ Oh my god, please stop talking."

Evan whimpers, hides his head in his hands; he can faintly hear Connor snorting by the window and Jared laughing on the phone.

The rest of the phone call is the disaster Evan knew it would be and he is now 20 dollars poorer; he feels kind of entitled to flopping down on his bed.

"He's right, you know."

Evan doesn't say anything, he knows the ghost will say whatever he wants, whether he answers or not.

"People will start saying we were fucking."

Evan flinches, opens one eye, chances a look at Connor. The boy doesn't look too bothered by the idea, but then again, Evan supposes dying must put some things in perspective.

"Thanks a lot, by the way. As if I needed anymore stereotypes going on."

Okay, maybe Evan had been wrong, Connor is kind of upset, but it's not like he is some kind of Murphy expert.

Still, he sits on his bed and turns to look fully at the ghost. Connor is laying on the floor, by the window, stretched out lazily in the sun and still dressed the same as the first day of their senior year.

And it's kind of painful to watch, because Connor doesn't look dead. There isn't paleness or spilled blood or rotten corpse. He's still looking the same, if only a little more tired.

Sad.

Isn't death supposed to be a a relief?

But then again, Connor died but he is still sticking around, even if Evan seems to be the only one who can see him. And how frustrating must that be? To expect everything to finally end, only to wake up again in an even shittier situation?

Evan got his arm broken in the summer, but he doesn't think it's the same thing at all.

 _( maybe just a little )_

"I'm sorry," Evan starts quietly, "I'll talk with Jared. He'll make it look better."

Connor finally opens his eyes, raises one eyebrow at him and Evan can _feel_ the sarcasm rolling off him, but _fine, he may have a point._

"Whatever," the ghost closes his eyes again, looking almost like he's sleeping in the sun, "how is this fixing shit by the way?"

Evan starts fidgeting, "well, I figured that, maybe, if your parents saw a few emails, they, uh, might forget about it? Like it will become old news or something. _Hopefully?_ "

"Sounds like 'em."

The words are dripping with bitterness and tired resignation, twisted and broken, tearing at the seams.

And it's not Connor accepting Evan's plan. It's not agreeing and it's not enough of a compromise. It's fragile and damaged, a battered white flag. It's almost like yielding but not quite; not a leap of faith but maybe an olive branch.

Evan thinks it might mean progress.

"So, you're just going to keep haunting me, now? Not that I'm kicking you out- I'm not, really, I don't think you can kick a ghost- well, maybe you can, probably, being in the same astral plane and all and. Yeah. So?"

"Well, it's not like I have better things to do." Connor half shrugs, still sprawled on the floor.

"You could," Evan hesitates, "visit your family?"

"Like I said, 's not like I have better stuff to do."

Evan shakes his head, half wonders if he isn't really hallucinating. The whole situation feels surreal, like some sort of bizarre alternate reality. He thinks this must have been what it felt like for Alice, falling for forever down the rabbit hole, only to find the strangest things at the bottom.


	3. no point in planting your roots

"Dear Evan Hansen,

We've been way too out of touch. Things have been crazy and it sucks that we don't talk that much.

But I should tell you that I think of you each night, I rub my nipples and start moaning with delight-"

"Why would you write that?" Evan screeches and feels heat creeping up his neck, he is definitely not looking at Connor, "Jared, what the hell, this needs to be perfect!"

"What? I'm just trying to make it more realistic!" Jared is laughing. He is having the time of his life making fun of Evan here. He is giggling. "Trust me, you need to calm down, I know what I'm doing. By the way, for your first date you guys went to the 7/11 two blocks down and he bought you a slushie."

"Did I sing you my sob story, too?" Connor snorts and rolls his eyes from where he's sitting cross-legged in the bed. "Very original."

Evan ignores him in favor of pinching the bridge of his nose and glaring, "Jared, this isn't Heathers."

"Shame, you'd be a good Veronica."

"Well, he's not wrong," the ghost gives him an once over, eyeing him critically before piping in, "how good are you at forgery?"

"Don't encourage him!" Evan fights a blush from spreading and wails, throwing his arms in the air.

"Who are you talking to?" Jared is looking puzzled at him and oh, right.

"No one!" He flushes, takes the computer from the boy, "just let me do it."

Evan deletes the last paragraph entirely and stares blankly at the computer screen, what is he supposed to write? How is he supposed to write anything, what, with Connor sitting on his bed and looking on amusedly?

"Dude, are you having an aneurysm or what? I don't have all day." Jared says snapping his fingers, "Come on, chop, chop. Unless you want me to do it?"

"There is no fucking way Jared "I once ate a bathbomb at Lush" Kleinman is passing as me." Connor frowns, gives the other boy a dark look and comes to stand beside Evan, "just write what I say, alright?"

"I've gotta tell you life's been shit. School sucks and I'm out of weed, my parents are fighting all the time and I wish I at least had my fucking door back-"

"Wow," Jared starts, "somehow you are making it sound exactly like Connor," he pauses, "are you sure you two weren't secret gay lovers?"

"Jared, shut up!" Evan is blushing, he knows, he can feel the heat spreading on his neck and cheeks, and he can't look at Connor, not when he is so close like this, hunched over to peer at the computer screen, and Evan can feel the cold rolling off the ghost and goosebumps are breaking on his skin.

"Man, I wish I had shoved him to the ground when I had the chance." Connor complains but he also takes a step back and straightens a little, so now Evan can breathe again.

"Dude, you are hyperventilating-" Jared cleans his glasses with his shirt.

"I'm not hyperventilating."

"-you're having considerable trouble breathing-"

"I'm not-"

"-do you need a paper bag?"

"I'm not hyperventilating!"

Evan takes a deep breath, he can do this, he just needs to ignore Jared. He looks up at Connor, snorts at the scowl the ghost is directing at the other boy.

"Dear Connor Murphy,

Yes, I also miss our talks. Stop doimg drugs, just try to take deep breaths and go on walks-"

"Right, if only I knew it was that easy!"

"- I'm sending pictures of the most amazing trees-"

"No!" Jared sounds almost embarassed, while Connor shakes his head and says, "Jesus, you're such a dork."

They are flanking Evan, one on each side, and he is suddenly reminded of the image of an angel and the devil on someone's shoulder. Although Evan can't really decide hot to sort them into the roles, the picture of Connor with fluffy white wings and a halo pops on his mind and why is he blushing again?

"- you'll be obsessed with all my forest expertise!"

"Absolutely not!"

"Dork."

"-Dude, I'm proud of you, just keep pushing through. You're turning around, I can see! All that it takes..."

It gets easier then, to just run with it and write. It feels a little like writing to himself, parroting the words he heard all his life.

"-our friendship goes beyond your average kind of bond-"

"That's one way to put it alright." Connor snorts and Evan shoots him a glare.

"But not because we're gay! The only man that I love is my dad. Well, anyway-"

"Smooth, Hansen, real smooth." The ghost shakes his head and there is something in his voice that Evan can't quite identify, and it makes him shiver and huddle his hoodie closer to himself, but then Jared is cackling behind him and Evan feels the tip of his ear get hot with embaressment and his mind is thoroughly occupied.

"you're getting better everyday..."

Evan huffs in annoyance and dives into writing. He tries not to think on how this needs to be good enough to fool the Murphys, to fool Zoe.

"Are we done yet?" Jared whines, sounding bored, "I have better things to do than watch you digging your own grave to impress Zoe, lover boy."

"What? No! That's not why- I just- No." He signs his name and saves the document, opening a new blank page, "I can't just show them one email, I want to show them I was a good friend, you know. That I was trying to help."

"Show Zoe, you mean?"

"Jared!"

The boy laughs and settles against the arm of the chair; Evan flinches away, sinking further in the seat. He writes the emails and the words flow easier with each sentence, the words waving together into what he supposes could have happened had things turned out different.

It's only after the emails are printed and Jared has gone home with the warning for Evan to tell his mom he had come over, that Evan realizes Connor isn't there anymore.

.

.

.

It's the middle of the night.

Evan knows it because he had been sleeping until five seconds ago, when the lights had been suddenly turned on on their own, flooding the room with brightness and waking him up in alarm, only to find Connor's smug face staring back at him from the doorway.

"Oh, jeez, did I wake you up?" The ghost asks, sounding not sorry at all, "whoops, my bad."

Evan sighs, drags a hand over his face in frustration, "what do you want, Connor?"

"Me? Nothing, nothing, just testing the eletric system, you know?" He flicks the lights on and off to prove his point, "see? Now you know they're working."

Evan sighs again. It's becoming his thing, now. "Connor, please, it's 3am- oh"

"I know right?" The ghost smirks pleased with himself, "It's the witching hour, I'm pretty sure I'm bound to haunt you right now, so, would you prefer dragging chains around or some good ol' banging of doors and windows?"

"Connor-"

"Sorry, I don't make the rules. So, if you had to choose?"

"You're literally making the rules up right now-"

"Oh right, you would know."

"What?" Evan squeaks out, he is not proud of it, but he squeaks, "Is this about the emails, because I thought you were fine with it- you said you were fine with it- aren't you fine with it? Because I ca-"

"No, I mean, maybe- it's not a big deal," Connor looks down, smoothes his clothes, which is pointless in Evan's opinion, because can a ghost really get wrinkles on his shirt? "it's just, I thought- forget about it, it's stupid," the ghost looks away, seems to gather himself, "anyway, you didn't pick your haunting of the day, night, really."

Evan crosses his legs and tries to make himself more comfortable, settles and looks at Connor. The ghost is pointedly not looking at him, choosing to pick at a loose scrap of wallpaper instead but he seems to be having some trouble staying solid, as his fingers go through the paper more than once. He looks tired again, sad, and Evan feels a familiar stab of guilt and pain, "uh, I guess, if I had to, I'd say chains?"

"Banging doors it is, then!"

Despite the fake cheerfulness, Connor doesn't move. He stays in the doorway, besides the light switch, looking unsure of what to do. It strikes Evan for the first time that the other boy might not know what he is doing either.

"So, where did you, uh, go, this afternoon?" Evan winces at his words, he doesn't mean to come across as accusing, "I mean, you were there, and then, you... weren't?" He trails off, regretting have ever started the question.

"Well, you said to try to take deep breaths and go on walks," Connor shrugs, "so I did."

"Seriously?"

"No, but it's not like I can light up a joint like this, so forgive me for being a little antsy after listening to Jared fucking Kleinman and his shitty jokes."

Connor glares at him for a second before disappearing, leaving Evan alone on his room once more.

He sighs, drags himself out of bed and turns off the light. It's not 4am yet, he still has time to go back to sleep and pretend his life isn't being turned upside down.

And he does sleep, and if he dreams of blue skies and a yellow field, and things that might have been, well, nobody needs to know.

But it's not until he wakes up the next morning, that Evan realizes the lights had been turned on again.


End file.
